The Eye of the Beholder
by Elizabeth Jacobs
Summary: Jimmy Palmer has a girlfriend? Yeah, and she has a past with just about everyone of his co-workers.
1. Friends and Enemies

**Okay, here goes. I tried really hard on this one, so comment. Constructive criticism is WONDERFUL and I like to edit, so take your best shot **puts up bulls'-eye****

_(Autopsy)_

I felt Jimmy's hands knot into my long dark brown hair; I felt his lips whisper as they grazed the bottom of my earlobe, searching for my neck. I felt his body close to mine. I felt… like we were going to be caught. I shuddered as he pushed against me, gently letting my back hit the wall behind me. My back arched as he rested his forehead on my shoulder.

"Aw, good God, Jimmy. What would your mother say?" my sad attempt at humor was futile. I wasn't that funny, but he chuckled to make me feel good. My breath was catching in my throat.

"Emma, there's nothing wrong about kissing my girlfriend," he pushed his lips against mine again and my brain got all fuzzy. Nothing was clear. I closed my eyes lightly, better. I let a small sigh escape. Was that really it? A kiss? There was no word for this perfection. I would have to settle for mere _kiss_.

Jimmy Palmer. Twenty seven. He was perfect for me in every way. He was young. He was smart. No, he was outright _brilliant_. He was funny (sometimes) and he was sweet. He was kind and caring and considerate and he loved me. I loved him. He was a little nerdy, but I liked that in a guy, he was secure in himself and not self-centered or conceited and was loose and easy going. He was amazing in every sense of the world. Well, that's him.

Now me.

Emma Tyler. Twenty three. Dark brown curls. Blue eyes. Fairly pretty. Young. Naïve. Loved. Friendly. I smile. A lot. I follow my own rules. Screw yours. I am strong headed. I am smart. I am a junior a junior at Georgetown in DC. I spend time with my very own Autopsy Gremlin, my very own Jimmy.

Jimmy froze as the autopsy doors whooshed open.

"Crap. Doctor Mallard's back."

"It's okay, he likes me, I think."

"He likes everyone, Em."

"Perfect."

"For who?"

"Me. And you." I let my thighs tense, relaxing the rest of me. He chuckled, whispering to me.

"Yeah, how's that? How's it great for me?"

"Ouch, Jim, that hurts," I joked, "Well, first off, it's not like you're making out with his daughter or someone he doesn't like. You'd get in one hell of a lot more trouble for that." I raked my hair back into a ponytail. "Two, you get me. And I think I'm pretty okay."

"I think you're more than pretty okay."

"Well, that's just dandy. I think you're okay, too." He pushed his lips to mine again. The doors whooshed again, and he poked his head out. It looked empty. He let me out first before following close. I started my dash out before doctor Mallard came towards me, his nose in a case file. I didn't see him in time.

"Oops, sorry, doctor! I didn't see you!" papers coated the floor and an annoyed look passed over the doctor's face.

"It's okay, Emma, dear. Would you mind helping an old man collect his dropped papers?"

"Of course, doctor. I'm sure Mr. Palmer will be eager to help, as well," I smiled slyly as I looked over at Jimmy. "Come help me, Jimmy." He rolled his eyes and his sea green scrubs swished as he bent down beside me. We gathered them quickly before slipped away to Abby's lab.

_(Abby's Lab)_

Abby Scuito, forensic scientist extraordinaire. Full of contradictions. My best friend. Oblivious to my relationship with Jimmy. I strode into her lab with a smile, as always.

"Hey, Abby!" She looked up from her computer and beamed at the sound of my voice.

"Emma! Hey!" she ran over to me and I looked up at her. _Whoa_. Abigail Scuito was not short. Or average. She was _tall_. Her 5'10" dwarfed my 5'6'', but then her 3" black platform boots made me look like a smirf, minus the blue complexion. Her arms were around me then, squeezing the life from me. Apparently she wanted to send me back to Palmer and the doctor. See? I am just _not funny_. I looked up at her and my face grew solemn.

"Abby, what do you think of Jimmy?" I walked about, circling her metal table as her eyebrows knit tightly together.

"Jimmy Palmer?" I nodded. "He's a good kid, I like him and he's nice. Why?"

"Well… I'm seeing him. But don't tell anyone! Please, Abs, please don't tell!"

"Okay, I won't! Everyone would be happy for you guys, but hey, whatever floats your boat."

"Thank you. In other news," we laughed at one of those things I say. You know how people coin certain phrases? Well, that's mine, "I'm getting a dog. My land lord said it was okay!" I smiled wide and bright. She clapped and jumped. She loved dogs and she knew I did, too. That's one of my favorite things about her—the fact that she was always so exuberant, that she was always happy for everyone.

"When are you getting it?" I could hear the excitement in her voice, just a little bit higher than usual, a little shaky, an obvious smile.

"I was thinking later today, like after you get out because I want you to come with me." I knew it would make her happy. She was my very best friend.

"Awesome!" the doors to her lab opened up, revealing a frazzled Jimmy with a Petri dish in his hands.

"Are you okay, Jimmy?" I asked. He was usually so cool and calm.

"Yeah, it's fine. The doctor wasn't happy, though. He said 'Mr. Palmer, I am very disappointed in you. This is a place of work and you should not be with that girl here, no matter how nice she is, you are here to work and not here to be with her.' I must have looked like a deer in headlights, because he laughed and put a hand on my shoulder and said 'back to work, Mr. Palmer.' Oh, Abby, he sent a tissue sample to see if we can get a positive ID." He handed her the dish. And looked longingly over at me. We were always right next to each other except for when he was at work. I knew what he was feeling, I was feeling the exact same way. I wanted to be next to him, touching his in one way or another. Hand to hand, shoulder to shoulder, lips to lips… the raw animal instinct was killing me…

"I told her, she knows, Jimmy." He sighed.

"Thank god." He rushed over to me and gave me a hug. I could feel the tension melt from his body and from the room. The need made Abby laugh as though we were being overdramatic.

"I'm sorry I got you in trouble," I whispered.

"Nah, it's fine." He paused and grinned. "It was worth it."

"Aw, come on! Ew! No, no, no! Come on…" we laughed. I gave him a quick kiss and pulled away slightly.

"Oh, I didn't tell you," I said to my boyfriend of two months, "I'm getting a puppy. I think either a German or Aussie shepherd." He smiled and nodded. He had nothing against dogs, but they kind of scared him, especially big ones. I smiled at him and he smiled back. I looked over to Abby and said,

"Abs, I'm going up to the squad room to say hi to Ziva and McGee and Gibbs and…" I snarled the last name, "_DiNozzo."_


	2. History

**Okay, here goes another one. I hope someone, somewhere, is reading this…**

**Again, comment. I'm all for criticism. **puts up shield** don't be too brutal…**

**DISCLAIMER: would I be writing this if I could actually have a say in what happened on NCIS? I think not.**

_(Bullpen/Squad Room)_

I sat on the front of Ziva's desk, laughing at what McGee had just said, a story about when his sister was little, something funny she did. Gibbs walked into the bullpen and I sprang off the desk, tripping into his open arms.

"Is this for real? Is this my little Emma?" his smile was all mine, mine was all his.

"Yeah, Uncle Jethro, it's really me. It's been too long. How are you?" Gibbs was my Aunt Shannon's husband, but Aunt Shannon is gone now. I felt my face fall at the memory. I watched his follow suit. I dropped the question and moved on. I smiled wide at him and he returned it, wide and pretty with straight white teeth. I glanced up at the team, who had their jaws on the floor. I ignored it, stashing it away in the back of my mind to ask later.

"Well, it's really nice to see you, Uncle Jethro."

"You too, Em." He put his arm around my shoulder, drawing me close. He kissed my forehead, very Uncle-y. He walked away, his step was brisk and quick, he took the stairs two at a time and pushed open the door to the director's office.

"Okay," I said to the team—Ziva David, Tony DiNozzo, and Tim McGee—while rolling my eyes, finding it sill that their mouths were still wide open, "What's up? Why do you look so shocked? 'Close your mouth, Michael, we are _not_ cod fish." I quoted Julie Andrews in Mary Poppins.

"Has he always smiled at you?" McGee asked me, my answer was automatic; I passed it off with a wave of my hand.

"Yeah, well family's different that co-workers. Of course my uncle's always smiled at me."

"I didn't know Gibbs had siblings," McGee rebutted, trying to prove me wrong.

"He doesn't. Shannon's sister's kid." At the mention of my aunt's name, the air became still.

"You knew Shannon?" Ziva asked, dumbstruck.

"You knew _Kelly?"_ McGee asked, also flabbergasted.

"Yeah, Shannon was so nice and awful pretty. Kelly was the best cousin a girl could ask for. We were blood sisters." I held up my thumb, which had a thin white line in the shape of a tiny heart on the top part. I chuckled again at the memory of the two of us, I six, she seven, sitting in out in her tree house in their back yard with one of her mother's kitchen knives on the floor.

"_We gonna do it, or not?" I had said. I was more adventurous. Kelly was having second thoughts._

"_I don't know if we should. What if it bleeds?"_

"_That's the point, silly. We trade blood so we're really sisters. Now, do it or don't." she lifted the paring knife with her right hand, prepared to carve into her left thumb._

"_No!" I stopped her, snatching the blade away. "I'll do it, it's gotta be on the right." I took her thumb before I stopped. She'd scream, it'd hurt. I grabbed a shirt discarded in favor of a bathing suit days ago._

"_Bite on this." She did as I instructed. I took the knife and quickly etched a heart there on her thumb; awful glad I had given her the shirt to muffle the screams. I, being left-handed, did my own flawlessly, exactly like hers. I grabbed her bleeding finger and pushed it on mine. I could smell the salt and rusting iron aroma as the blood mixed. The deep red dropped once onto the floor. I took the shirt from her mouth and wiped it up as best I could, still pressing my finger to hers._

"_Emma, this hurts, I think it's done, ow, OW!" she pulled her finger away and I rolled my eyes. I grabbed a band-aid and wrapped her thumb and then bandaged my own. I hugged my cousin, my sister._

I laughed again at the memory. I sat in Gibbs' chair and got another look from everyone. Apparently, this was simply not done.

"Tim, remember that time at Sarah's birthday party when you had the ponies? And how your saddle wasn't tight enough and you like nearly flipped over before someone caught you?" that always happened to me. I would be talking about something and then a memory would come and I completely forget about the previous topic, moving onto the memory, blurting it out no matter how embarrassing?

His face reddened. "Yeah, her sixth. I'm just that lucky, that I'd have last pick and I'd get stuck with a defective one."

"Ha-ha, Timmy, you did have last pick, didn't you?" he nodded and laughed with me.

"Yep. I would get stuck with it. It was a cute little horse, though." I laughed.

"Yeah, if you're a six year old girl."

"Whatever. It wasn't like I exactly wanted to go. My dad made me. He said he was teaching me 'humility', personally, I think it was just mean. And he laughed when I was falling and told the lady she should have let me drop, it would have given me 'thick skin'. He was all about lessons, and I hated that."

"Aw, poor tiny Tim." He sighed and went back to re-routing his modem—again.

I looked up to see a tortured DiNozzo looking at me. I hated him. He had screwed around with my sister, Alana. He got her pregnant and walked away from her. The baby killed her. That little boy was a cold blooded killer of my favorite sister and had died, too. I wasn't sorry for him. I had been glad; I'd even go as far as to say 'overjoyed'; when they said evil little Will was dead. I blamed tony for my sister's death. I say that she died of a broken heart, cause little William looked exactly like his awful father. Alana loved him and he turned his back on her. I don't care how long it's been (so what if they were seventeen?) people, in my experiences, don't change unless they die. Once a coward, always a coward. Now Ziva was uncharted territory, I didn't know her too well. I had no history with her. She seemed strong, courageous, but hey, I could be wrong. That's just how my eye saw it, how I beheld it.

I was probably wrong.


End file.
